Thursday, April 12, 2012

The Smell of Home

I can't remember the last time I took the train from Mumbai to Kochi- it has been well over ten years, if my mental arithmetic is anything to go by. However, most Malayalis would agree with me that there is a distinct tang of greenery and a dew-soaked freshness to the air as the train moves across the Tamil Nadu border into Palakkad in Kerala before chugging along to Kochi and further south. That first deep drawing of breath heralds the beginning of a vacation, just the same way that the acridness in air as Palakkad is left behind draws the curtains on a break that always feel like it sped away on rollerblades.

These days the sight of the expansive carpet of greenery from the cubbyhole window of a plane gives me that kick of homecoming...and makes me realise what the call of the blood means. There are a myriad things that I can crib about my homeland, but that sense of absolute love that overtakes me, that sense of belonging that says 'Love Me Hate Me But You Cannot Forsake Me'. There are a few distinct smells that you cannot but miss in Kerala. Each smell triggers off a childhood memory, a vignette, a reason to smile and reminisce...

My flight from Mumbai this time, was literally at the crack of dawn, I flew with the Sun, chasing the night light away and soaking in the red, pink and orange streaks of the breaking dawn that mixed in an ethereal way with the diluted blues of the midnight. By the time I landed in Kochi, it was reasonably early, at least by my standards that dub morning as any time after 9. That's why as I sleep-walked into the restroom at the Kochi airport, the first smell of familiarity that assailed me also woke me up.

The woman who kept the rooms spotlessly clean, had the look of a traditional Malayali woman, scrubbed and bathed, with sandal paste and red kumkum on her forehead and curly black hair glistening with coconut oil. Now this coconut oil that Malayali women specially temper at home called kaachiya enna does not smell like your regular bottle of Parachute coconut oil. This oil is a potent brew of coconut oil with several other herbs that exude a smell that can identify you as a Malayali at a distance even at the Kumbh Mela. I gave her my best morning sleepy smile, she must have wondered if I had a few screws jolted in the plane ride..But the smell took me back to those bus rides to college in the morning rush hour when packed like sardines, we'd stand on barely a leg for the best part of half an hour, with our noses barely an inch away from someone's freshly washed and oiled hair.

These days, the sanitised confines of dad's AC sedan means that there are few outdoor smells that percolate in. There used to be a time when the trip from the airport to home would be liberally sprinkled with generous gulps of breath sucked in to retain the aroma as we pass by bakeries..now unlike in other cities, bakeries are not really places where they bake stuff, but they merely sell baked stuff and confectioneries made elsewhere. But a few of the bigger, older ones have huge vats of coconut oil constantly on the boil just outside the shop, into which practised hands expertly slice in raw bananas before scooping out those yummy banana chips. Our noses are by now habituated to smelling out fresh oil and stale chips. It is an art and once you perfect it, your reputation back in the city you live in is guaranteed to soar among friends. For, they often grudginly allow you to take a break on the condition that giant parcels of banana chips return with you...Well-made chips are little crisps of divinity...and damn the cholesterol scare or the calories menace..

Banana chips, apart, there is the smell of tapioca frying or jackfruit frying. The Malayalis reading this would by now be drooling. The smell is inexplicably nostalgia invoking..and then the craving can only be satiated by biting into a crisp chip. While I'm no fan of the smell of a thoroughly marinated piece of fish or meat crispening in hot curry-leaves tempered oil, I'd be a bad commentator of the smells of home, if I don't make a mention of it.

Hmmm, talking of food, have you smelt mangoes ripening? April the season for sultry heat and the smell of mangoes ripening in the air..This year, Dad has lovingly nurtured little bundles of nectar in our garden. He talks to them, coaxes them to grow healthy, battling pests that are keen to make merry and leave us shortchanged.. I think the assault on the senses, especially that of smell cannot be a single post..But I'd love to leave you with another secret joy...

Mamma's garden has several plants that you'd hardly find in a dusty urban jungle like Mumbai. Soon after a cooling evening shower, just as the aroma of the earth rises into the air, there is something to be said for walking on the spongy, wet ground, disturbing the raindrops that the leaves have trapped within them. Rub a few of the leaves between your hands, and the fragrance that nature leaves behind on your hands...:) 

Sometimes, it takes distance to make the heart grow fonder...Sometimes, it takes a gentle trip down the memory lanes of smell to recapture lost moments of childhood..

(P:S All the photographs are mine and I don't think stealing is a good idea..though if you want to use it, credit it..:)

 

26 comments:

  1. and when my parents are planning to shift to Palakkad, I am all against it...after reading this, I am seriously re-thinking :)

    I have a similar experience when I take the Baroda Express to home from Bombay. The assault of the smell of the farsan, the lovely colourful bandhanis outside the station, the riping Junagadhi mangoes...yummmmmmm

    Thanks for this I loved the write up

    Errr...first time here from Zephyr's blog where you wrote about your Amma and her super cute Bata shoes :)

    Oh by the way, enjoy the stay :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Rs Mom, I remember your comment on the shoe story very well..:) If I may suggest, don't deny R(who I think is your kid considering you are Rs Mom) the chance to savour life in Palakkad. It's distinctly beautiful and might be the only chance they have of enjoying a few of the pleasures that you relived through this post..:) Are you a Baroda girl??

      Delete
  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Another lovely post!I started my career from the coastline of Kerala and can relate to each line as the aroma of fresh banana chips, freshly brewed coffee, huge coconuts, and lush green backwaters come back as fond memories!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Wow, you began your career in Kochi? :) If you visit Kochi now, you will realise how much the city has changed..:) But the weather remains as humid and oppressive and the rains just as glorious...

      Delete
  4. My dear Deepthy,

    Just two smells -- coconut oil in the hair and banana chips frying --
    and you have transported us in your Time Machine to Kerala.
    What would you do, if you unleashed all the smells of Kerala on us?

    Peace and love,
    - Joe.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Joe,
      Are you allowed fried banana chips? If you are I must parcel some for you, for all the love you have showered on me all these years...:)
      D

      Delete
  5. Nice reading about Kerala and mangoes. I love both! And banana chips, my eternal favourite. How I crave for them right now!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Sumitra: I rarely advice people to visit Kerala in April because of the heat that can give you a stroke. But the mangoes, especially if they are homegrown and therefore as organic as they can be, is a delight..:) I shall bite into a few crispy chips for you...;)

      Delete
  6. You've captured the essence of the place so well in this post. I could smell that unmistakable smell of "kachiye enna" too! :) Great Post!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. :) Happy Vishu Choco!! :) Kachiya enna, pappadams and chips with payasam!!

      Delete
  7. Love those smells, and the chips too!

    Home is always etched in memory.

    Thanks for sharing.

    http://www.dreamspaces.blogspot.in

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks VV..:) Home is always special isn't it? :) However, much you travel the world, the mind homes in on the place we grew up in! :)

      Delete
  8. Replies
    1. :) Indeed Gopal, the pangs of separation when you are just leaving town back to the urban jungle that has become home now is even worse

      Delete
  9. Beautiful narration.These childhood memories are priceless.Familiar sights and smells never fail to make you nostalgic.Loved the photographs too.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Sharmila..hope the smile is brighter than ever..:)

      Delete
  10. Beautifully written! I have never been to Kerala, but since I am from Manglore, I could relate to a lot of things. About the shun calorie stuff while eating banana chips is so true. Those chips are true bliss. And Although I am not a Malayali, I am all drooling, jackfruit frying.. YUM! Have been to manglore?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Aaah the Jenny of the Gen-Y talk is it? if so, did you realise Gen-Y is such an intrinsic part of your name?? :) I have been to mangalore a number of times. Mom's younger brat, also known as the pesky sister did her post graduation from Manipal, so flying in to Mangalore airport has happened a couple of times.. I used to be a journalist in a near past life..;) so have been that side for elections, stories etc..:)

      Delete
  11. Journomouse,

    There are times, rare as they are, when one finds a piece of writing and feels as though one's own busy fingers typed them out. The way you wrote about home, the things you noticed are exactly the same things I miss about it. The oiled hair, the crowded bus, the mangoes... I feel a massive rush of homesickness and as I read the word, "Mamma", it all just burst out. I call my mother that, too.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Marita: A big warm Mallu hug to ease the pangs of nostalgia..and just another tidbit more that only the Malayali would understand..these days every evening there is a rowdy Venal Mazha on...and often there is thunder and lightning too..:) It's fun to sit on the porch and feel the raindrop splash against your face..:)

      Delete
    2. How fantastic it is to read your words. Aah, venal mazha. The most comforting kind of rain I will ever feel.

      Thank you Journomous, thank you so very much.

      Delete
  12. The verdant ocean laden with 'dew-soaked' air wafted towards me as I read your piece on your hometown, as did the smell of 'kaachiya enna', ripening mangoes, frying jackfruits and marinated fish. You surely have a dreamland out there. I believe what makes it special is the memories of your childhood trapped for ever in that earth, in that air, in those dew drops and even the blades of grass.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I agree with you, I think that's what keeps Kerala magical in my head, despite rising fundamental, jingoism and utter chauvinism that I see around that is so misplaced in today's day and age. If I were to go on a rant about things I don't like the list could be long, but like you said, it is the memories of childhood trapped in that air that does not allow the heart refuse to forsake it. :)

      Delete
  13. My dear D -- Did you know my daughter Pallavi also loves fried banana chips? We call them "pathekam" in Konkani. Can you refer me a Keralite shop in Pune, where I can buy them regularly? Peace and love - Joe.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I shall do a reconnaissance for you amongst my trusted Pune Malayali Sangh and let you know for sure where you can source the chips from!

      Delete